Author's Note

Sorry for the slight delay, woke up a litte later than I wanted today.

Rock Farmin' and Rollin' Part 3

The squads of bandits from all over the county assembled altogether in formations with three of their lieutenants: a silver-haired one with a bowl-cut, a black-haired one with a mohawk, and a red-haired one with a braid to the side of their face. The lieutenant that was injured by Wilda, his hand wrapped in bandages and fingers done in splints, hung a distance behind after opting to observe and organize, distributing his remaining able-bodied units among the others. But despite insisting that he could defend himself with his mallet alone, the others each sent one of their own as bodyguards.

On the opposite side, their foes had divided their limited defense into what appeared to be some semblance of a strategic series of lines: At the front was Alphonse… and Alphonse, and Alphonse, obviously some manner of illusion as each of the two-dozen figures blatantly mirrored the subtle actions of the original likely hiding among them as they all held his bright-green polearm. A fair distance behind this was a figure that had the bandits much more wary: The illustrious beast elemental Wilda who’d single-handedly driven off an entire squad’s worth of their forces, and the rumors had only grown exaggerated. Behind him was a shorter outer wall built in front of the very quickly reinforced first wall, the trench between the two occupied by the newcomer Oro, holding from what looked like in the distance an attuned single-handed crossbow.

Mohawk raised his club high and the forces behind him struck stances. He gave out a cry and pointed it forward, beginning his own charge once at least half his troops rushed past him. With a flick of the finger, the group of Alphonses lit their weapons’ spearheads in a bright green flame-like effect and held them forward at ready. They then met the coming charge with a lancing thrust that carried with it a wide crescent of energy that blasted back the centermost of the frontal troops.

Mohawk condescendingly sneered at how his foe opted for the most obvious position in his illusion. He raised his free hand encased in a thick shell of terrain and sprinted towards the only real enemy. When he swung his magical boxing glove, instead of a satisfying crunch followed by the shock of the erupting earthen spikes, he was sent spinning out of sorts by the added weight of his blow passing through the thin air of a very transparent illusion. Alphonse gave a smirk of his own as he hefted his weapon in an overhead spinning sweep, sending the Mohawked lieutenant flying back into his collapsing men from a blow from his far-right side. Then, from the middle left of the group of illusions, Alphonse let fly a slowly moving orb of energy that gave every goon it made contact with a stunning shock before erupting into a concussive green blast once it reached optimal position to utterly break their formation.

Alphonse could barely suppress a loud cackle. He'd wished he'd thought of placing a meta-magic effect on his mobile illusion spell that enabled him to switch places with any of his false doppelgangers at will the moment he'd heard the idea from Oro, but even he was surprised at just how effective this strategy was. Whereas delivering a solid blow among hollow ones was normally detrimental to the ruse, this approach turned that weakness into the bait for many traps within traps, creating panic and confusion upon the prey realizing they'd walked into a hunting ground where they could be attacked from many possible angles, impossible to know which one as the whole of the facade would mirror any abrupt twitches or flinches as their core image instantly changed places.

Just like what Oro predicted what would happen, Bowl-Cut’s and Braid’s forces charged past Alphonse as he kept the vanguard at bay. Braid’s squad took point to engage Wilda, and with a short leap, Braid slammed his open palm on the ground in front of the line. With a quake and cloud of dust, a giant amorphous mouth of terrain emerged from the ground between the bandits and Wilda. Narrowing its small beady eyes and flashing its multiple rows of jagged triangular teeth, it roiled the ground before it as it charged Wilda.

Wilda didn’t hesitate, he rushed to the large autonomous construct and extended both his arms as they began to glow with his blue magic. Wilda adjusted his footing as he grabbed onto both jaws of the artificial creature with two giant gorilla hands of magic, stopping it short. However, Braid and his forces came together and began pushing the construct with all their might from behind. Wilda grit his teeth and put all his energy into keeping this blockbusting attack where it was.

As Bowl-Cut’s forces advanced beyond this struggle, he made a signal by flinging three different colored clouds of clay dust above him. From across all three units, bandits carrying distinctively-crafted pellet bows broke off from their groups and rushed on strips of land that flowed and moved like conveyor belts to the frontmost lieutenant's squad almost instantly.

Bowl-Cut raised his falchion high and all of the archers knocked small balls of dirt into their weapons’ slings and drew them all at once. Bowl-Cut lowered his weapon to point at the inner wall and each of the archers took aim. With a flick and a shout from their lieutenant, the archers sent out a salvo of pellets that quickly grew many times their own size before accelerating and blasting on contact with their target. Though some of the rocks along the top had been pulverized, the bonds of the whole of the structure withstood this attack.

Oro, experience making him count on the tunnel-vision ranged fighters get when they find the perfect series of movements to hit a stationary target, bent his arm to slip one of his rings into his grip. It began to glow as he threw it up into the air and fixed it in place. Then, he reached into the transparent yellow light within and pulled out a chain of dark-yellow crossbow bolts connected horizontally by an invisible tether.

He fitted the first into a slot into what upon closer inspection was a large, thinly-spoked wheel that appeared at the center of the crossbow connected to a rather elaborate mechanism built into the whole thing, then with a few brief turns fitted more into half the slots on one side, more bolts being tugged out of the floating ring. Oro adjusted his footing and took aim with his latest weapon transformation at the line of archers right as they took aim at the wall. Bracing himself, he squeezed the release and the whole thing practically shrieked as after a brief wind-up a barrage of bolts flew, propelled by the twin strings of the metallic bows alternatingly pulled and released by the internal mechanism.

The entire squad was sent out of sorts, their jackets protecting them from the worst of each bolt’s tip but the blows hit hard enough to send them tumbling. Then the ammunition released from their wild shots came raining back onto them in blasts, forcing both ranged and melee units alike scrambling in a hasty retreat.

Holding his polearm to the wary disjointed units before him, Alphonse held a hand over his eyes to see the squad that attempted to assail the wall directly fleeing. He decided to put the final nail in the coffin of this attack and erected a semi-transparent bright green wall between his illusionary squad and Mohawk’s fighters. Then, he dematerialized his weapon and made a series of gestures with one hand while speaking a series of five inscrutable utterances under his breath.

A green wispy mass of energy appeared on top of the clenched fist he was extending forward. He used his other hand to grip it on the edge and pull on it as it elastically stretched back. He aimed it over the struggle between Wilda and Braid’s forces and let it fly by the snapback he released. Once directly over the amassed squad, the energy mass burst and from it dropped a squall’s worth of bright green needles, enough to hit the entire unit.

However, as he passed, Bowl-Cut manifested a jar of earthenware and pointed its opening angled up. Suddenly, with the howl of a vortex, the spell was drawn into the mouth of the vessel. Bowl-Cut pulled this construct in close even as green fumes puffed out the top and made a self-satisfied sneer right at Alphonse. Alphonse’s eyes grew wide and he recoiled. “Crud! A snaring spell!”

Bowl-Cut took his jar in one hand and used the other to let out a whistle to Braid, who turned his head to his fellow lieutenant and nodded. He turned back and gave his construct a couple slaps on its back with the palm of his hand. As the construct’s beady eyes narrowed, two giant clawed hands emerged from the ground on both sides of Wilda and managed to grab him by his lower body, locking him in place. Bowl-Cut then sprinted and dashed past the construct’s body, then he heaved his jar at Wilda. The jar let out a burst of green smoke tinged with brown upon shattering that enveloped him. Once it cleared, Wilda’s face suddenly appeared slack, with his tongue and a line of drool hanging out of the corner of his mouth and his aura dissipated as his arms began to droop. The construct released him as he plopped onto the ground, his limbs strewn about in an awkward arrangement.

Alphonse knew he had to act fast. He stretched his arm out to his barrier, made a gesture then a pulling motion. The barrier shrunk to a smaller flat rectangle that billowed slightly and zoomed towards Alphonse, who’s illusions burst like soap bubbles as he hopped on and rode the repurposed spell two stories into the air. As he passed Braid’s squad and the autonomous construct, he stretched out his open palm and a green tether of energy whipped out and wrapped around the paralyzed Wilda, lifting his limp body right on top of the flying construct.

As Alphonse took Wilda to the safety of the trench past the outer wall, the remaining lieutenants gave each other a high-five, then sent up a few more clouds of different-colored dry clay even higher into the air. The forces still standing across all three squads rushed to regroup behind them as one each conjured a wave of land to take the fallen fighters to the safe zone by Ponytail. They then continued their advance behind the persistently crawling construct as their formation’s spearhead.

Oro bent down to Wilda, then looked at Alphonse. “Can you revive him?”

Alphonse briefly squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. “I’m not like Kris! I’m better at inflicting hexes instead of lifting them! Maybe there’d be a chance if it were made of nothing but my own magic, but that snaring spell corrupted it with its user’s!”

Oro sighed and stood back up straight, then slipped another ring into the grip of his free hand. “Then I suppose it’s time to deploy Russ’s ideas. Thank Ultima I managed to convince him to save them as a contingency for a scenario just like this. With a numbers difference like ours, any loss will be catastrophic regardless of sheer magic and martial power!”

Oro crouched briefly and sprung to throw his gripped ring high into the air. It began glowing and soared far above the tall inner wall, then it fixed into the air as it grew several times larger. The ring then began rotating, letting out a yellow flash with each full revolution.

Meanwhile, high above the battlefield, sitting upon the overcast cloud mass, Fluttershy gulped as she saw the signal. She’d spent the couple days they’d had to gather as many clouds she could find in the normally clear and sunny Rockville sky as he could find, the new coming bandits not knowing the normal climate. Taking a few deep breaths, she counted the number of flashes, then took flight as they reached the number corresponding for her to engage her part of the plan. She flew in an arc around the inner circumference of her cumulonimbus, rapidly picking up speed. Eventually, the swirling motions she exerted upon the cloud began to leash the whole area’s atmosphere, and the tumultuous air pressure conjured an abrupt windstorm.

On the ground below, the bandits paused their advance to brace themselves against the unexpected gale. However, even they fared better than the giant construct in front of them. Its entire form shuddered and spasmed in the blustering air. Eventually it yielded entirely to the environmental form of the elemental magic that naturally defeats the kind composing its very being, and it disintegrated into dust in the wind.

Russ, behind the inner wall with the others, counted the number of flashes with narrowed eyes. At the appropriate count, he swung down a raised arm. On his signal, Igneous Rock, Cloudy Quartz, and Limestone kicked the flat-broad switch on the three complex mechanisms of levers and pulleys Russ assembled with all their might, sending the small boulders loaded into the slings soaring over the walls. Limestone and Maud rushed with new boulders and fitted them on the slings after Russ reset the mechanisms.

Back out on the battlefield, one bandit managed to open his eyes despite the stinging, dusty wind and pointed upward, letting out a holler at the oncoming projectiles. Upon the first impact, irregardless of them hitting anyone, the fighters were sent into a panic and what little formation remained broke down completely. Bowl and even Ponytail far behind enemy lines cut tried sending up all sorts of signals, but it seemed futile, exactly as intended.

Briad managed to get a response from the primal approach, shaking his club aloft and letting out a loud series of cries. About a dozen fighters strewn across the battlefield noticed and managed to regroup behind him. Pointing his weapon and letting out another shout, he led one last charge to the wall.

Raising his hand raised once again, Russ counted the flashes from Oro’s signal after it had yet to be dematerialized after the catapults began firing. He pointed at Pinkie sitting atop the strangest apparatus he’d assembled thus far. With a serious salute followed by an excited grin, Pinkie flipped a lever with one of her free front hooves and the platform rose into the air on its mechanical leg.

Braid extended an arm to his squad to stop them short over caution of yet another surprise coming from behind the wall, holding his hand above his eyes as he hardly believed he was seeing a bright pink pony with a huge mane sitting on what looked like an exercise machine like they used to have in Core Metro hooked up to several other moving parts.

Pinkie then began to pump the wooden pedals in the blur of her usual Pinkie speed, the spokes hooked up to the multiple rigid slings sending out a hail of hard, pointy pebbles that Marble and Maud kept supplied carrying buckets of them to a larger container that brought them up along a pulley system of scoops. Braid recoiled, attempting to shield his face with an extended arm. He spared a glance and his eyes grew wide as he found his rally running off, his further cries and goads proving fruitless.

Bowl-Cut rushed and grabbed Braid’s free arm, pulling him out of range of the barrage. But even then, the boulders dropped crashing all around them.

Bowl-Cut grit his teeth and began digging into a pocket on his jacket, taking out a shard of layered semi-transparent rock. When Braid saw this, he gasped and recoiled. “ARE YOU CRAZY? You know what the boss will do to us if we-”

Bowl-Cut silenced him with a quick hand waving in his associate’s face. “What he’ll do to us now will be nothing compared to what he’ll do to us if we screw up the whole operation!”

Bowl-Cut jabbed the tip of his falchion into the ground to take the shard in both hands. When he broke it in two, the both of them began glowing in a pale gray light. Bowl-Cut then threw the shards upward, causing both of them to rise into the sky leaving trails like fireworks. And just like fireworks, upon reaching a certain height, they erupted into two distinctive shapes of light:

One was the outline of an octagon, and within was the outline of a semi-triangular series of jagged cliffs, one short but broad and the other two tall, but one taller and more narrow than the one before it. The symbol beside it was a series of three broad lines stacked upon one-another, the one on top whole and the ones below it broken in the middle.

Back behind the wall, Russ alongside Marble and Maud had his neck craned up looking at the lightshow. “I’d say… That’s an-other summonin’ spell like th’ one that called us. But unlike ours, which sorta worked ‘cause we knew the symbol and were friendly-like to it, this one seems a lot more person-alized.” He turned his head toward the ponies and pointed upward, making some haphazard gesture. “Th’ first one’s the symbol of the rock element, a derivative of earth like mine and Wilda’s, ob-viously. Th’ second one seems familiar-like, but I couldn’t really name it. I think Slash once called a thing like that part of somthin’ or an-other called the bagua…”

At that, Maud’s normally stony expression betrayed something, her eyes widening ever so slightly. “Rock… Element…?”

Oro’s eagle eye trained into the distance to spy something huge fade in, looming out of the far side of the battlefield. The figure pulled out something with one hand and in another, something narrow and light gray appeared that they affixed to the other. This new figure then raised their makeshift white flag.

Oro’s eyes went wide for a moment, then he extended an arm and snapped a finger. The ring high above stopped spinning and let out one long golden glow before shrinking back down into Oro’s grip. Russ waved his hand and let out a shout, halting the Pie Family’s onslaught.

Fluttershy gently soared down to the trench the human fighters were crouched in. Having seen what happened from above, she swiftly went up to the immobilized Wilda, lifted him up in a hoof and touched the surface of his body with the other, dragging it along his torso and extremities as if searching for something by touch. After a brief pause, she made three swift, strong jabs into his flesh at different angles with the edge of her hoof. She quickly strode back as Wilda spasmed in three strong twitches, then he managed to sit up as he belched out a brown and bright green vapor that dispersed into the air before scratching the back of his head, stretching and groaning.

At this, Alphonse and Oro gave Fluttershy confused and amazed expressions respectively. Flutterhsy blushed and turned her head away. “Um… Wilda once told me about how some humans like to test their powers on… lower lifeforms… So he had Kris and Otto teach me an old technique to find and stimulate a series of energy points that can expel low-tier malignant elemental magic from living things…”

Wilda managed to stand back up, cracking the joints in his neck. “Wuff… and I’m glad I did it, especially now!” He then turned towards the others with a raised eyebrow. “Speaking of… What happened to the battle? I couldn’t really see or hear anything zonked out like that. What gave us this chance to regroup?”

Oro pointed out into the battlefield. “After our contingency went into effect, at least one of them realized that it’d be impossible to regain their advantage. I’d wager their boss gave them a pre prepared summoning spell of their own to call him if things started falling apart. And now it looks like he wants to negotiate.”

Alphonse sighed and shrugged with upturned hands. “Regardless, we’ll be in a heap of trouble ourselves if we violate such gestures. Being the good guys can be hard like that, especially since there’s no reason that we could wind up losing our advantage and never get it back depending on what he wants to say.”

Wilda, Alphonse, Oro, Russ, Fluttershy, Pinkie, and Maud, acting as representative of the Pie Family proper, strode out to the battlefield as one to meet the lone figure coming in from the other side. He was a mountain of a man, no less as tall as Wilda at minimum and at least three times as wide, impossible to tell if his bulk was fat or muscle underneath his layered gear. He wore wadded clothes like the other fighters beneath a set of crude blackened solid pig iron plates covering his extremities and a pair of shells with the bagua symbol from before painted at the front beaten to curve around both sides of his torso with a skirt hanging down made up of a pair of horizontally linked rectangular plates. However, Russ could see that what looked like crude rope securing the whole of the structure to the interloper’s body were in fact high-quality monster sinews: durable as diamond filament but infinitely more flexible, guaranteed to last for practical use long after the armor they’re looped in and the obviously pragmatic wearer were dust.

Alphonse’s keen perception noticed other details: A fair, weathered complexion with dark hair shaved at the sides but the thick, shaggy locks that remained curved in broad a line over his head and leading to a queue braid that hung all the way down to the base of his back. However, what caught his attention were his eyes.

Alphonse honed his numerous small talents towards a fighting style allowing him to do things most orthodox warriors and layman would judge and condemn him for, all so as to bring a potentially perilous situation to an end before the things he cared about most wound up broken, as they often risked as they took up arms at his side. To do so, he had to learn how to see the things most others couldn’t at first glance and immediately size up whatever situation they found themselves in. However, what he saw made him have absolutely no idea what could happen next, and that made him very, very afraid. He’d rarely seen anything that gave him the impression of such depth, determination and unseen strength. First in his own Master Warrior, and sparsely in the rare occasions he’d faced opponents significantly more powerful and skilled than he was.

His own animal-like intuition sensing the unseen distress of one of his wise friends, Wilda summoned every drop of valor in his gut and heart. He stepped forward with a heavily planted foot and leaned forward, peering up at his enemy from his bent head. “I am Wilda Urson of the Prancing Pony Adventurer’s Guild, present defender of the Pie Family and their land! In the name of the tales of the warriors of old, I command you to tell us who you are!”

The interloper raised an eyebrow for a moment. Then, he planted his feet, arched his back, and swept out a diagonally extending arm. “I am Bruce Masson! Founder and leader of the Feared Cliff gang of bandits! By right of pillage, I and my younger brothers lay claim to all surrounding land in this locale!” He then straightened up and pulled in his fist pointed upward. “However… I must confess that I seek simple solutions to drive away the weak out of a dislike for seeing my sworn brethren come to harm, and you have shown your strength marked by their many injuries. Therefore, as representative of the family of this hold, I demand that you stake their claim upon it by right of the Bout!”

At this display, Maud leaned in towards Russ and added a greater softness to her monotone voice. “Can you tell me why they’re doing all that?”

Russ bent a bit lower and held a hand to shield his mouth from the front. “Us earth tribesfolk tend to be big on history and tradition. Even if many will passionately disagree, it’s not for any rational reason. When we invoke them with their many predetermined movements and phrases, it gives us courage. Makes us feel like regardless of the situation, we’re standing on firm, even ground among equals that we share it with.”

Wilda, retaking a natural posture, turned his head to peer at Bruce from the corner of his eye. “You do realize… That since you’re invoking the Bout firsthand, we get to decide what kind of bout it will be, right?”

Bruce crossed his arms and made a big, full upper body nod. “I understand. As well as I understand my right to tack on suggestions that you can’t outright refuse without a compelling argument over how it gives me an unseen advantage.”

Fluttershy bent her furrowed gaze low, scratching at the side of her head with a hoof. “Um… What is all this about? Why are they trying to… Negotiate with the bandits?”

Oro bent his tin-soldier posture towards the pegasus to his side. “The Pitch Accords: A rite that was ancient when the Immortals were new, from all the way back to the Age of Fire: Our earliest recorded history.

“Even the most hardened warlords and criminals can’t last on the wrong side of law and order if their word amounts to a pile of dirt. Outlaws and raiders always think of themselves first, and paradoxically, you’ve got to be known for your ability to negotiate if you want to survive among them. If you can be a wolf among sheep, strive to be the herder who knows how to hunt.

“Some believe that the term Pitched Battle originated from the Pitch Accords. When the flames of conflict go out, you want to have something to build with from the remains of what was destroyed. And if necessary, start a new fire with, good and hot.”

As Fluttershy was lost with a look of incomprehension, Wilda had just figured out a really good idea for how to do their pitched battle. He leaned towards Bruce and pointed a finger, thumb extended upward. “How about this: We make a circle and choose an equal number of fighters. If you’re forced out of the circle, you’re out. Last team with members in, wins.”

Bruce’s expression remained stony. However, he took one step towards Wilda. “I cannot deny that those are good terms, but let me offer this as an amendment: You may have as many fighters as you desire, but I will fight alone. Also, you must be forced out by the action of an opponent; If you throw yourself out of the circle, you may re-enter. One last thing, my fighters are allowed to take places outside the circle. They’ve always been enthusiastic and spirited, and wouldn’t be able to help but cheer anyway, but I give my word they will not interfere with our match within the circle. Even outside they will not touch your team; everything they do will be for my sake, lest they bring shame upon me.”

Wilda’s eyes went wide when the interloper finished. He leaned back to a neutral posture, scratching at his chin-hair for a moment. Then, he spared a moment to turn and take a look at Oro. Their tactical specialist took a few deep breaths, rolling his eyes into a few different positions in a deep consideration. Then, he shut them with a solemn expression and made a quick, shaking nod. Wilda turned back to Bruce. “We cannot find an argument that gives you an unequal advantage in the rules themselves. Therefore, we must accept. Summon your men to form the circle, and let the bout begin!”